


Better Than Me

by Ink_of_my_Veins



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Hank Anderson, Ex HankCon, F/M, Hannor, Lyrics Not Included, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Song fic, hank/connor, hankcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_of_my_Veins/pseuds/Ink_of_my_Veins
Summary: Of course Connor deserved better. Anyone who was first discovering life would deserve better, but by god, if he didn't wish for him to be back in his arms. Maybe it was it would be best if he learned from the past and moved on again...





	Better Than Me

**Author's Note:**

> "Anonymous asked: "psst. Better Than Me by Hinder is a big ol sad Hank POV Hannor song ;^)"  
> Hey so I totally listened to The Song and now all I can think about is Connor actually leaving Hank because Hank hates himself as much as he loves Connor and pretty much drove him away. 
> 
> It hurts, thanks! "
> 
> A story based on the songs Better Than Me and Lips of an Angel by Hinder. This was inspired by an ask that the Tumblr user tsunderehank received about Better Than Me by Hinder in regards to Hank and Connor.

He had been so cruel, this he knew, but what else could he have done? Hank was old and probably didn’t have much longer to live. Connor was young, full of life, with so much left yet to discover and explore. 

Life had worn Hank down until it left him a cynical alcoholic, too afraid to take his own life so he left it up to chance to decide for him. Connor, naïve as he could be, saw things more clearly. He saw things logically and maybe even a little optimistically. He could use reason to work through nearly anything… except for Hank. Cyberlife’s most advanced project, one of the world’s most skilled negotiators, had finally met his match against a 53-year-old lieutenant who had seen how this would end far too many times. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed Hank willed himself to not glance behind him to where Connor had claimed his own little piece of the man’s life. A little piece of his heart. Now Sumo laid in the android’s place as though daring Hank to admit that Connor had taken more than just a small piece. 

Flopping back on the bed, Hank ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Sumo shifted, making Hank wonder when his bed had gotten so big. Had it always been so large? 

So empty? 

“We’re not going through this again. It’s just you and me, Sumo.” Hank grumbled, pulling his body up on the bed and shifting until he was under the covers. Sumo lifted his head to look at the man, groaning softly before laying his head down on his paws once more. He gazed at Connor’s pillow, left untouched since he left. 

It was strange to see a stray hair still lingering on the pillow cover as though Conor had only been gone for the night. Hank wouldn’t have thought androids shed hair as humans did, but there it was. A reminder that he really needed to wash the pillowcases with the rest of his bedding. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Hank didn’t want to lose those small reminders. The reminders of memories they made together in this house, in this bed. Early mornings when they didn’t have to worry about work. Lazy Sundays spent laying in bed, tangled up in each other and simply existing, basking in the other’s presence. How long had it been since he felt so content? How long had it been since he had felt so happy? 

All those mornings they had shared sweet, slow kisses. 

Hank’s fingers drifting lazily over Connor’s back and shoulders, nails scratching at his scalp in slow circles. Connor’s body relaxing further into his and the soft sighs that escaped his lips. He had looked so at peace and… happy… 

The lieutenant felt the familiar twist in his gut that so often drove him to drink. A wave of sorrow washed over him with the memories of sunlight slowly growing stronger. A soft blue ring of light that blinked calmly. His smile, a light curve of his lips and the seductive curve of his ass, framed only by the fabric of an apron tied around his waist. 

Connor wanted others to believe that he was innocent, but Hank knew better. He had been the only one who knew better once. 

“Just you and me, Sum, like it always should’ve been.” Hank muttered, patting the space next to him. Sumo seemed to grumble but crawled closer to shove his cold nose into Hank’s face, licking his nose in way of a goodnight kiss. Hank smiled, ruffling the dog’s ears. 

“Good boy.”

 

* * *

 

Cleaning had never really been one of Hank’s top priorities, but things at work were slow for once since the Revolution and he found himself with a few days off. With nothing else to do, nowhere else to go, and little want to drink for once, Hank decided to do some cleaning. 

Not that it was difficult. Cleaning mostly meant gathering up all the takeout and pizza boxes as well as the cluttered bottles of alcohol on the tables and counters and doing laundry. Still, he took the time to sweep and tidy up the living room and bathroom. 

Leaving him standing outside his bedroom. There was so much he needed to go through. Old clothes to give away or simply throw out. Junk that had collected over the years to be sorted through in the closet. Even more laundry and another carpet to vacuum. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hank decided to go through everything else first. Memories lingered behind the closed doors of his closet. Memories he was reluctant to revisit. Not that his choice to leave it for last made much of a difference as everything else didn’t take nearly long enough for his liking. 

Most of his old clothing he was too fond of to donate or throw and so that pile turned out to be pitifully small. Most of the laundry had already been done, leaving only the bedding and with everything off the floor, vacuuming the carpet barely wasted any time. 

Hank frowned at his bedroom as though accusing it of being so clean on purpose. No, it wasn’t clean. 

Sterile.

It was sterile now. Neutral territory. 

Except for that damned closet. Hank thought, turning his accusing glare towards the tiny room in question. 

Clothes predominated the space. Hangers, clustered just enough to hide the boxes tucked away behind them, held mismatched outfits put together without consideration. Pulling out the box closest to him, Hank settled down onto the floor to begin the slow and painful task of sorting. 

He had stashed so many of his most cherished memories here, closer to where he slept. Closer to where his drunken stupor may bring him to wallow in what could have been and had been. 

Drawings that had been done by a three-year-old boy. Favored toys and worn photos of a smiling family. Worn photos of a messy boy and his smiling face. Moments that were frozen in time through a camera that would have later embarrassed a teenage boy bringing his first date home and later laughed at with his fiancée. 

Items and souvenirs to ruminate over at an older age, to wonder why it had been kept only to realize it remained because the story behind it was too sweet to let go. Storybooks, an unopened ring pop long past its expiration date, a spiral ring notebook full of scribbles and nonsense once considered important, and a long-dead Gameboy color with a long forgotten Pokémon game still plugged in. 

So much of it, Hank had planned on giving to his son once he was old enough. 

Now it was only good for donation so some other kid could glimpse into the past or an old enthusiast could relive their childhood. Hank smiled, looking the Gameboy over, remembering the many hours he had spent with the small device in his hands. He couldn’t help but marvel at how technology had advanced. Gameboys were nearly unheard of now. 

Jesus, he felt old. 

He smiled at the memories of growing up, remembering how technology advanced so rapidly before his eyes. He tried to remember when he got his first cell phone, a Nokia that had last him for years beyond the first smartphones. It had been difficult to move on from that thing, from simplicity to complexity. Smartphones had seemed so ridiculous at first, but then he had grown used to the convenience. 

Convenience. Connor’s presence had been convenient around the house. 

When the android wasn’t ‘sleeping’ with Hank he was making sure the house was kept in order.  He made sure Hank was eating healthy meals and getting to work on time. He had made sure the man was actually relaxing on his downtime and not stressing over things that he couldn’t control. He had done his best to limit Hank’s drinking until it was almost solely on his days off. With Connor around Hank’s work attendance had greatly improved and he didn’t have to think about getting another warning from Fowler. 

When Connor was around Hank had actually been able to relax. He had been able to enjoy his days off knowing that someone wanted to be with him. Knowing that someone wanted to do something with him even if it was a simple walk with Sumo. Connor’s presence had been easy, natural even. It was as if he had belonged in Hank’s life all along. 

And Hank and driven him away. 

Hank grabbed another box, yanking it towards him with more force than necessary, causing it to tear and spill its contents. It was more worn than the rest but wasn’t one that Hank immediately recognized. Had he really been so drunk during the past few months? Hank wondered, pulling out a stuffed wolf that still held on to some sense of newness. 

Its fur was worn out in places from being held too tightly though it’s glassy eyes were still bright. It’s frowning mouth seemed to ask why it had been locked away into the darkness of a cardboard box behind a closed door.

On the floor of the closet, pictures had scattered out. They had been taken partly at Hank’s insistence and later at Connor’s as he found he rather enjoyed the feel of holding snapshots of their life together in his hands. He had enjoyed the way the developed photos had felt in comparison to the hologram photo frames that were so often preferred now. They had been expensive, but Hank was more than happy to pay the price. 

Each photo, even the blurred and out of focus ones, had been worth the price. 

Picking one up he saw it was one of the few they had taken together in the dressing room. A private moment between the two of them. 

Connor had been unsure of the outfit he had changed into and had called Hank in for his opinion. Hank hadn’t been able to help himself, seeing Connor in those tight jeans coupled with a dark button down that hugged his frame in all the right ways. Hank had wanted to capture those moments, had wanted to remember Connor and his sheepish embarrassment. His LED stayed a steady yellow, but the way his expression continued to shift from uncertainty to embarrassment to something more pleased, had made Hank’s heart leap. 

Why had he ever drove Connor away? Connor was the best thing to ever happen in Hank’s life since he lost Cole. Cole would have loved the android just as much as Hank had. Connor would have been a good father to Cole. Even as an android programmed only to be a detective, Connor would have learned to be a good father. A good husband. A good lover. Hank, though, Hank could never be any of that. 

He was far too broken to be a better man now.

Despite what Connor believed. 

Even with Connor at his side, Hank could never be better. Not anymore. There wouldn’t be enough time. He couldn’t be the man who Connor deserved. 

Standing slowly, Hank listened to his joints pop, feeling them protest, and wondered not for the first time if androids ever experienced something similar. Did their joints groan as they moved the longer the lived or did a bit of oil take care of that? Did they just replace the joint in question altogether? 

Theoretically, they could live forever so what was there to worry about where a human’s life was numbered? 

How could he be so selfish as to subject Connor to that? Connor would live well beyond Hank’s own life expectancy. He would have to watch the man die and continue on without him. Or he would try to take his own life once Hank was gone. 

No, Hank couldn’t do that. He couldn’t ask Connor to endure that. He couldn’t expect Connor to endure that simply because Hank couldn’t help but be selfish. He couldn’t ask Connor to cope with that pain all because he yearned for the comfort of another. 

He wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t ask Connor to do that. 

Humans were selfish though. Selfishness was in their very nature and it wasn’t something they could necessarily help. Not unless they were a saint. 

Hank reached out to the pillow he had neglected to wash and pulled it close to himself, burying his face into it. He breathed deeply, taking in the artificial scent and the smell of his own cheap shampoo that Connor had taken to using rather than buying his own. 

Androids didn’t really need to bathe as humans did, but Connor had acquiesced to Hank’s insistence. Showers were a human thing and Hank had wanted Connor to feel more human because that’s what he was. Plastic and metal didn’t make him anything less than human, but maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe Connor felt that he needed to replicate humanity perfectly in order to be loved.

God, he had been so stupid. 

He should have told Connor that he was more than enough as he was. 

He was perfect as he was. 

He was so much more than Hank ever deserved. 

The bed they had shared felt so empty now even with Sumo warming the sheets. It felt empty without someone to hold in his arms. Without some to wake up to. At least part of that problem could be resolved if he was brave enough to try. Even though it wasn’t something he had done in years, long before even the accident, maybe it would help. Maybe it would help him to sleep at night even if they were gone by morning. 

Hank needed something to take his mind away from the android. He wasn’t looking for a reason anymore, just an escape, now that alcohol wasn’t enough. Alcohol stopped being enough months ago and now even the cold kiss of his gun didn’t comfort him anymore. A fate that no longer favored him, or maybe it had always favored him in the most twisted way possible. 

No. Fate had nothing to do with this. This wasn’t the end, but Hank would be damned if he didn’t try. 

 

* * *

 

Her kisses were rough and hollow. 

 

He had met her at a bar, some dive he found while wandering, and there she was. Drinking alone and looking the part of someone seeking a one night stand. He struck up a conversation, already a little buzzed, and was pleased to find that she was closer to his age. Something about talking to even younger women had always struck him as creepy. Even flirting with women around his age seemed wrong, but she was receptive and seemed genuinely interested. She seemed to actually think of him as handsome and damned if that didn’t help. 

She was attractive as well, obviously careful of her figure despite the alcoholism that she admitted too as they continued to talk. Single, no kids, but with a steady job that she enjoyed and only looking for company for the night. Hank counted his lucky stars that night when she came home with him. 

When she came back over a few nights later he didn’t think much of it. So long as there were no strings attached he didn’t mind waking up to her in his arms. 

Dovie was her name or Dove for short. And she really was a dove. 

When Hank woke the mornings after they spent the night together he would find breakfast and coffee ready and waiting for him when he had to work. When he didn’t have to work he would wake up to find her still in his arms, but always because of her shorter hair, he would think for a moment that it was Connor. If he felt disappointment when he realized who it was no one would know about it.

 

* * *

 

 

One night stands became more frequent. They had exchanged numbers and Hank slowly stopped bar hopping to meet up with other people. Together they had agreed that this wouldn’t become anything more. Neither of them was looking for anything serious, but she reminded him so much of Connor. From her boyish appearance to her quiet optimism to the way she would fidget when still for too long. She always seemed to become restless after sitting still for too long whether it was playing with something or idly petting Sumo’s head. Her hands needed to be kept busy. More often than not she would turn her restlessness towards Hank, not that he minded. 

No matter what it was never the same. It didn’t matter who he was with, whether it was some stranger or Dove in his bed or on his couch. Whoever they were, they were so impersonal. What they wanted they got and once it was done they were gone, leaving an empty and cooling bed behind. Sometimes Sumo would take their place, but more often than not he would lay by the front door as though waiting. 

Waiting for someone who deserved better than Hank.

 

* * *

 

Hank startled awake, barely recognizing the ringtone that beckoned him back to the living room where his cell phone charged. Dove shifted in her sleep but otherwise didn’t wake except for a sleep murmur asking who was calling. 

“Probably just the station, go back to sleep.” Hank murmured back, running a calloused hand over her bare shoulder. 

She nodded, smiling sleepily, and nuzzled the pillow. Connor’s pillow, the thought was at the back of his mind, quiet and insidious. Hank shook his head, refusing to think of that as he carefully slid out of bed and made his way into the living room. 

His phone continued to ring insistently, flashing one missed call followed by another. 

“‘Ello?” he answered, scratching his bare stomach, not bothering to hide the sleepiness in his tone. 

“Hank?” 

Hank’s stomach dropped in more than just the figurative way. He had honestly never expected to hear that voice again and yet there it was, addressing him directly. 

Connor had taken a break from the precinct since their breakup, saying that he needed time to find himself. Fowler had agreed only because of the Revolution and Markus. Becoming human was a big step that many androids needed time to explore. So many jobs had opened up since then that unemployment fell at a pace that was nearly unheard of. 

“Connor?” Hank lowered his voice, glancing back towards his room surreptitiously, “Connor, are you okay?” 

“Y-yes, I’m fine.” Connor assured, but Hank knew all too well that he wasn’t. He had heard that tone, heard the way his words stuttered too many times before. Hank’s eyes closed, his weight shifting back in his own tell-tale expression of exasperation. 

“Connor, why are you crying? What happened?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet. 

“I’m not!” Connor stated, his voice a tad too indignant for Hank to believe. 

“You are. I know you too well for that shit to work. What’s wrong?” 

“I…” Connor started before the line went silent. 

Hank waited patiently, glancing back at the bedroom periodically and then berating himself for even caring. Dove had stated from the beginning that she hadn’t wanted anything serious so why would it matter if she heard this conversation? 

“Why are you whispering?” Connor asked, forcing Hank into a corner he had never expected. 

“I-I don’t know…” now it was Hank’s turn to hesitate. Did he really want Connor to know that he had begun seeing other people? Did Connor even want to know why Hank had even considered it? 

“I started seeing someone… n-not romantically or anything!” Hank corrected, berating himself for feeling like he needed to prove himself. He and Connor were over. This call would mean nothing. Just an attempt at closure. That was all it was. 

“I see…” 

Hank wished he had never said anything about Dovie in his bedroom upon hearing the hurt disappointment in Connor’s voice, “I’ve started seeing someone else too.” 

Or had he imagined it? 

“That’s good… I think. Are they treating you well?” Hank asked, ignoring the hurt he felt at hearing that. He couldn’t blame Connor for trying when Hank himself looked for someone to warm his bed with a quick fuck to get him through another sleepless night. 

“Yes, but…” Connor’s hitched, his breath stuttering over the phone as he seemed to try to calm himself down, “But it’s not the same, Hank. He isn’t you.”  

“Oh, Con, you know things weren’t working.” 

Only because he was too afraid of losing it all. He was a coward. A coward who believed that this was for the best. He was protecting Connor from the mess that was Hank. 

He could never admit that he often found himself wishing that Dove was Connor instead. 

“What?” Connor asked, making Hank hastily backtrack, had he said that aloud? 

“This isn’t really-” 

“I guess neither of us has really moved on. Do you think that maybe-” 

“Con, we aren’t going to do this again.” Hank interrupted firmly, feeling Connor flinch away through the phone and softened his voice, “I’m sorry, but you deserve better.” 

Hank hated himself all the more for saying those words again. He hated remembering the hurt in Connor’s eyes as he was pushed away both physically and emotionally. The front door slamming behind him as he left. Sumo whimpered, pawing softly at the door’s frame. He looked back at Hank uncertainly, ears perked. He couldn’t understand what had just happened, but he understood well enough the results. 

“Part of being human is making your own choices, Hank.”

Hank closed his eyes, biting back the words that threatened to spill out from his mouth. He knew what he should say, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

He wanted to keep talking, to pretend like nothing ever happened. For even a little while he wanted to pretend that they were still partners at the precinct.  

“You know how androids aren’t supposed to dream?” Connor said, filling in the silence for Hank.

“Yeah…” 

“I think…” Connor paused for a beat, a second that would have meant nothing for a human, but for an android, it might as well been moments, “I think I've been having the equivalent of dreams during stasis. They’re like memories being replayed, but they’re different at the same time. Sometimes I’m there, reliving what happened and can make things change, not by much, but enough for me to notice. Other times I’m forced to simply watch as things play out and everything looks…” 

“Everything looks off. Like it’s some surrealistic interpretation.” Hank offered, moving to sit down on the couch. 

“Yeah, exactly!” Connor sounded excited and Hank could almost see the way his eyes must be lighting up, his hands rubbing together slowly as they worked closer to solving another mystery. 

“I’ve heard that dreams are a way for the brain to sort through subconscious issues; like emotions or stress. Stuff like that. It’s why dreams seem so strange.” Hank reached for the half-empty bottle of beer on the coffee table and took a slow swig, “I guess for deviants dreaming would be a lot more specific.”

“Yes, but for me, it seems that there is more of an emotional drive behind them. I don’t know how to convey what happens and Terry… Terry doesn’t understand as much as he tries to.” 

“Terry, huh? Have you tried talking to Markus?” 

“No, I don’t think he would be able to help me.” Connor hesitated again, “What have you been dreaming about, Hank?” 

Hank nearly choked on his beer mid-swallow and coughed, but Connor didn’t comment. 

“Shit, Con, ya can’t just ask someone what they dream about!” 

“You only ever had a problem with me asking about your dreams when it was something you truly didn’t want to talk about or it was a pigeon nightmare.” Hank could have sworn that Connor was smirking at him at that small reminder. 

“That was only once.” Hank growled, slumping back into the couch. 

“Or so you say.” Connor chuckled, a sweet sound that Hank belatedly realized he had missed more than he should. 

“The dreams I can remember were of us, sometimes working a case and sometimes you were simply there in whatever convoluted story my brain decided to conjure up.” he looked away from the phone, instinctively avoiding a gaze that couldn't physically be directed at him. Could Connor still analyze him through a phone? 

Silence over the line seemed to suggest that the android was trying and Hank cleared his throat noisily. 

“Does Terry know you’re callin’ me right now?” it was the first thing that came to mind and Hank almost regretted asking, but there was no stopping now, “This won’t start a fight will it?” 

“No, he’s a pretty heavy sleeper and I think there’s a saying ‘what they don’t know won’t hurt them’?” 

“Connor, no.” 

“Hank, Terry knows about us and that, at least, he understands. Isn’t it healthy to talk things out when things ended poorly?” 

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t be-” 

“Did you ever tell Dovie about us?” 

Hank’s mouth snapped shut. What he had with Dovie wasn’t serious despite them continuing to see each other. Despite them seeing no one else other than each other, Hank maintained that it wasn’t serious. 

“No, she doesn’t know.” he grunted, glancing back towards the bedroom, “She thinks this is work-related.” 

“I don’t think we should keep doing this.” Connor murmured and Hank couldn’t help but agree. It was unfair to both Dovie and Terry when Hank and Connor had so much left to be said to each other. 

“It’s good to hear from you again.” Hank admitted, blinking rapidly, “Jesus, Con, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I did to you, for everything I said to you. I never wanted to hurt you I just-” 

“I know, Hank. Can we, maybe meet up and talk?” 

Did he really want to meet up with the android and talk? Would he be strong enough to make this officially end? 

“Yeah, do you want to meet up at that smoothie shop?” Hang agreed before he could decide against it. 

“After your shift?” Connor sounded so hopeful Hank couldn’t say no. He had never been strong enough to really refuse Connor anything. 

“When have I ever said no to one of those coffees?” 

“Anyone would ask what you did with the Lieutenant if you refused.” Connor laughed, drawing one of Hank too. It had been too long since he had laughed so freely like that. He really was one of the few who could make him laugh like that, 

Dove was clever and funny. She was thoughtful, insightful even, but she didn’t have the same wonderment towards life and humanity. She didn’t share Connor’s almost naive optimism that he kept despite everything he had experienced. He continued to believe where anyone else would have buckled beneath the weight as Hank had. In her own way, Dove had done the same. 

In her, Hank saw his own bitterness reflected and it makes him wonder how Connor had ever put up with him. How he had continued to counter Hank’s nihilistic and self-deprecating comments and jokes was truly a miracle. Or maybe it was Connor having rubbed off on him that made Hank realize there was always some reason to hold onto some hope. 

Connor saw some sort of brightness, some silver lining even when Hank saw nothing. And when Connor faltered all Hank had to do was remind him why he kept fighting, why he started fighting in the first place, and Connor would be back on his feet. Almost as though nothing had happened he would be back to pulling Hank along behind him; acting as though he could think of no better life. 

Fuck, Hank was in deep. 

And honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care because he couldn't see a life without that android. Tomorrow they would meet up and if Connor was willing to forgive him, if he was willing to give Hank another chance, then Hank would give him more than either of them would have thought possible. 

Part of being human was making your own choices after all. 


End file.
